《From The Earth To The Sky - A Short Story Collection》


 01 - Opera Prima

    The queue is slow and I¡¯m feeling nervous, it has been some time and I already knew it was going to take even more, however, by watching the others with their kids I feel something towards my child... I think its shame.


    I made him carefully, joining his little hands with a very fine needle and I got my fingers pricked with it, his legs are made with cloth-covered metal to give him firmness, the torso can spin almost completely and the joints and arms work fine, and they even stretch a little, is finished by hand, of course but I made him with dedication. Is lined with soft cloth and resistant, the color is thin but constant, I should feel satisfied.


    I can said I made him with determination, I spent entire nights making the model since the moment I got the inspiration, that day when I saw his little smiling face looking at me from the mirror. I researched some molding techniques and I put myself in it, the result is of a soft pink-skin color with an uniform smooth surface but looking at the other kids I can help but feeling uneasy, most of the parents brought kids like mine, made with the hand of an enthusiast person.


    But one without talent.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    There are just a few parents who brought really amazing kids, the woman in the front has a precious one, she can¡¯t stop talking about the years she spent assembling a light and resistant body made with cutting edge materials, she says that once her kid is alive he will be able to jump like a cat and perform in every sport like a pro, the outside is also splendid, he looks completely molded in one piece although she said that is an ivory latex cover to give him that soft and firm appearance.


    The one three turns behind me admits to have neglected the body to focus on the mind, he says that his son has a linked sapphire brain, and a nervous system sensible to all kind of surfaces. He says that no matter what his kid decides to do he will be a genius even when he seems to suggest that the kid will be an artist.


    I see my kid again, he looked so beautiful when I just finished him, now he looks rough and graceless.


    Brain?


    Structure?


    Materials?


    It never went through my head, I just wanted a child of mine, I thought it would be enough just with having him but now I¡¯m not sure.


    My turn has come and I¡¯m standing in front of the machine, the animator looks at me and there are voices in the back of the row. I don¡¯t know what to do but I advance and let him on the platform... and slowly my son comes alive.

 02 - On the prowl.

    There have been many days already that i am with an idea over my head, I don¡ät know where it could have stuck over me, but it was a wednesday when I noticed it following me, I was thinking about the ways to bring an actual elephant inside a room and other important stuff like that when I realized something watching me, and there it was, an idea mixed among people¡äs gossips, it certainly doesn¡ät look like a great idea, judging by its clothes one would call it a mediocre idea, one like the ones that come and go every time but the problem is that it is not going anywhere.


    It started by following me as many others before, not that I¡¯m a great thinker but the ideas come to me frequently and I just have to get them a most suited person and they leave alone, but not this one and I don¡¯t know what does it wants, it just walks behind me and sits closely, I don¡¯t dislike ideas but I can¡¯t stand when they look at me like that.


    It has been two weeks and the idea is still around my head, I already tried to drive it away by reading gossips magazines and watching reality shows but it doesn¡¯t seems like going, at this point I¡¯m pretty upset and not in the mood for ideas bothering me, I mean, have you ever went through something similar? To have a quiet comfortable life with just all you need but suddenly the ideas came to break the harmony:


    "Should I have a bigger house?"


    "Do you think this dress makes me look fat?"Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    "Is the world as good as it should be?"


    "Hold my beer, I think I can do that!"


    But all I know is I¡¯m just no letting this idea to ruin my quiet life...


    *****


    I said it won¡¯t happen but it¡¯s already two months with this idea around my head, and my patience limit was reached long ago, this other time I even went into a church to have a moment alone expecting the priest to be one of those who don¡¯t like new ideas but it turned out to be a very old one, and because of that he let it in even when he couldn¡ät understand it, the idea stood still looking at me for hours.


    God, how I hate when they do that.


    Enough! I¡¯m getting rid of it...


    Today is the day; today I¡¯m going to kill it!


    I left my house early as every saturday to go in a walk around the park, I sat under the great oak a little north to the kiosk, this is a good place for ideas to come and I know it will be coming anytime soon.


    There it is!


    It got closer slowly, trying to take me by surprise by attacking my back, but I saw it and let it approach me by showing no signals of recognition, it took a step, then another, and one more, then I jumped at it and strangled it, it struggled in my hands, such endurance! I realized that for killing an idea one must destroy its very center so I pierced its heart with the sharp sword of my tongue: the definite reason of its impossibility.


    Nothing is as effective against an idea as a well nailed argument between its ribs.


    I felt the jubilee of my accomplishment, now I all had to do was to hide the body.


    Then I saw an elderly couple walking by and I hid, afraid of them discovering my crime, but they kept walking just sparing a single glance to make sure they didn¡¯t trip with the corpse.


    But I forgot that nobody cares about dead ideas.

 03 - Exhibition Man

    He was fond of jumping from high buildings, and he liked to tell long monologues while he climbed the stairs. This way he made sure to get the attention of the reader, who avid of introspection came back every week to repeat the play. Sometimes he used costumes and raved until he looked like a new and surprising character, complete with a newly invented story and reinforced with more overwhelming phrases thrown between dialogues.


    The psychologist in the novel next door (a romantic story between a man hard to approach and a flagrantly accessible woman) diagnosed him with attention deficit (as in, he has a deficit on the attention he receives.) The woman next page (the one who cooks schemes in her magic pot) got him a metaphorical chicken broth to recover after his dramatic deaths (it is a really cheap resource to die while monologging, because nobody laughs at your reasons when you are killing yourself.) And from time to time the tormented boy from that teen drama novel convinces him to go for some drinks, and ruminate their disgraces while the fictional writers fight among themselves for the chance to write him a new story every day.


    But even then, the exhibitionist feels a little disparaged and dreams of the day when the readers will recognize his talent, and the value of his ever changing life. And they will form reading groups to watch up to the most minute instant of his life (a thing the other characters don¡¯t understand, up to this day nobody knows how he can enjoy to be seen while he cleans his ass, when all the other characters avoid to show such disgraceful behavior in public.)If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Yet he enjoys a certain amount of appreciation, and there are many the ones who admire the tenacity which whom he strives to appear in all kinds of stories, even if It¡¯s only to say a single line. Even if as of late he only gets third rate roles, he holds onto the hope of achieving fame (for more info this character was that one guy sleeping in the train wagon on that tale about the darkness among the tunnels, and also the one guy who was walking his dog in that alien invasion novel, and he has interpreted almost every waiter in the police novels.)


    One day his moment came, he was discovered by a renowned reader (the editor from a certain company specialized in best-sellers) and his fame skyrocketed, in a matter of days he was able to appear in a large book collection as That-guy-that-comes-out-of-nowhere-and-teaches-a-big-life-lesson. He was able to travel to the land of social media where he got a ridiculous amount of followers, and was invited to many comics and the Christmas special of a certain animated series.


    Nowadays he is an analysis subject among the literary fans, and distributes his time letting himself to be studied as an archetype by the most purist and bearded litterateurs the universities can offer.


    By the way, he also lived happily ever after.

 04 - The Maiden And The Frog.

    ¡ªThen, are you truly cursed? ¡ªasked the maiden.


    ¡ªOf course, lovely miss ¡ªanswered the frog ¡ªand if you kiss me I will turn back into a farmer. I am very hard working and honest, and I promise I will do everything in my hand to love you and make you happy.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡ªFarmer? ¡ªasked the surprised maiden ¡ªAre you not a prince?


    ¡ªEhhh¡­ no.


    ¡ªDon¡¯t you have a castle or servants?


    ¡ªNo.


    ¡ªNot lands or riches?


    ¡ªNo, just my farm.


    ¡ªThen I¡¯m not going to kiss you! ¡ªand she went to another pond, looking for a better suitor.


    ¡°She wanted riches, a castle and nobility¡± ¡ªthe frog thought ¡ª¡°And just for a kiss!¡±


    And it went back to the water, to wait for a better suitor.